Routine
by Zelda Ophelia
Summary: Janet has her routine down, but with routine her mind wanders. For the Stargate Flash Fiction challenge, reposted from LJ.


She looked back over at Lt. Simmons before checking the time. It was nearly time for the next round of tetracycline boosters – her infirmary would be filling up soon.

Her infirmary. Her domain.

It was times like this when she couldn't decide if she was glad she was the doctor in charge or if she would gladly give it up to anyone else.

Today it felt like a little of both.

Pulling her supplies together, she tried to keep her mind off her other patient, suspended from a spike through his shoulder in the embarkation room. She had done as much as she could for Colonel O'Neill. It was now up to Captain Carter and Dr. Jackson to find a way to help him, to remove the orb's projectile - just to remove the orb in general. Not only did the Colonel's life depend on it, but all their lives depended on it because of the wildfire directive. Nothing and no one would be entering or leaving the base until it was lifted. No new supplies, no new medicines, nothing.

People were entering the infirmary, slowly coming in for a shot that may – or may not – be their saving grace. She used her work as a distraction, making mental notes on the condition of each patient, trying to discern if any needed further medical treatment or if they could go back to their duties. For most it wasn't the physical strain that worried her, but the emotional strain. Dark circles under hollow eyes were a testament to everyone's concern – would the vaunted scientists of the SGC come up with a fix or would they all die?

She refused to think about it herself. It was her job, her duty to save lives. She could use her medicine to keep her patients as healthy as possible - and alive for that matter - until Sam and Daniel found a way to destroy the orb. Then she could save them, continue to pump the tetracycline into them until there is no danger of illness to any of them.

Except one.

Lt. Simmons' condition was out of her control, and that was the hardest thing to deal with of all. She could give the rest of the base the tetracycline boosters, she could keep Colonel O'Neill on an IV drip, but here she could not do anything more than to keep him comfortable until…

Until he ran out of time, because time was the one luxury he did not have.

She could still remember when he first came to the SGC. He had been so excited at first just to be there. And then he had been so excited to be assigned to Sam's workgroup. Carter had been the only one oblivious to his crush on her. (It reminded Janet of how Daniel was so oblivious to all her nurses' crush on him.) More than once she had heard someone joking about his crush, occasionally ribbing him about it. She shook her head, it was kinda cute, really, in a puppy dog way. And she refused to think about not saving him.

With a slow sigh, she forced herself to change her train of thought. Venturing there was dangerous territory that she needed to stay out of for the sake of her patients. This was where she was supposed to be the one who was strong, the one that they could depend on in this time of crisis. Just as they could depend on General Hammond or Colonel O'Neill or the rest of SG-1 in times like this.

She routinely placed the used syringe in the biohazards bin, and let Sgt. Siler return to his task to trying to cut through the spike holding Colonel O'Neill. Her next patient (or victim as the Colonel would joke) sat in his place as she prepared a new syringe with the tetracycline. It was a routine she had perfected soon after discovering that the tetracycline inhibited the growth of the organism. Someone sat across from her, she drew the syringe full, injected, disposed of the syringe, someone else sat down. She had reached the point where she could do this in her sleep, yet she consciously tried to pay special attention to each and every patient. It wouldn't do her or the base any good for her to miss any tell tale signs that the infection had progressed beyond what the tetracycline could suppress in one of them. Nor would it do any good for anyone to succumb to the emotional stress of the situation.

A nurse refilled the tray next to her with full bottles of the tetracycline. She knew that her reserves had to be running low. They had already emptied all the stocks in the infirmary and had begun to get the reserves out of the medical supply room. That would eventually run out as well, though it would probably take at least a day or two. But she wasn't sure if they had a day or two. Lt. Simmons didn't. And the Colonel might not either; depending on if the organism developed a resistance to the tetracycline over time. If it did - she shot that thought down quickly, she wasn't going to think about what could happen, she wasn't going to visualize all her patients mirroring Lt. Simmons on what could easily be his death bed.

She hated losing patients. She refused to lose Lt. Simmons. They would find a way to save him and the Colonel. They would find a way to destroy the orb and the organism it had infected the base with. Both Sam and Daniel were smart. Geniuses, really, with a knack for coming up with crazy plans that always seemed to save the day. They'd come up with something. She was sure of it.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she tucked the syringe in her hand in the biohazard waste container. The airman in front of her stood and left quickly, as if he was trying to escape the miasma of illness and death the infirmary seemed to possess, even more so now than before. She didn't blame him; there had been times during this day that she had wanted to do the same. But she couldn't abandon her patients, not now. She smiled up at her next client as she prepared the syringe. The line was getting shorter, this round of boosters was nearly done and she'd have another hour before the next. She looked over to check on Lt. Simmons one last time. Captain Carter would be in the upcoming round of boosters, she'd have her stop by and talk to him. Hopefully it would help him feel better for a time, hopefully long enough for them to find a way out of this mess. Putting the last syringe down, she straightened up her work area. All she could do now was her job – and hope that Sam and Daniel could do theirs so that her work wasn't for naught.


End file.
